The Love of an Elf
by SchizoidSarah
Summary: Their secret love for each other is not the only connection between Aragorn and Legolas. Rated for slash content.
1. Love at a Distance

Title: The Love of an Elf

Author: Schizoid Sarah

Pairing: Aragorn/Legolas

Rating: R

Warnings: Slash, Hurt/Comfort

A/N: Feedback/archive Q's or comments: 

Summary: Their secret love for each other is not the only connection between Legolas and Aragorn

The night was dark and the air was cool. The water surrounding the land was particularly calm and barely a sound reached the sleeping forest. Occasionally a soft breath of wind would touch the tips of the trees high above, creating a sense of serenity. The clear sky flickered with the stars above.

A lone silhouette could be seen moving amongst the trees. It was of a strong, but very elegant figure. Long, delicate hair danced upon the form whenever the breeze tickled. Poised fingers sat delicately on a bow at his side. A defined arm reached up to pull hair away from his face.

Suddenly he paused, frozen as he listened into the quiet night; he heard things the others could not. His figure relaxed again, and he continued on his prowl. He turned as a second figure approached his own. This second figure was strong as well, and of long hair. His figure, however, was of a shorter and stockier build. The two came close and, for an instant, their eyes met. However, the moment passed and they looked away. They exchanged no words as the first elegant figure walked towards where the second figure had come from and the second form took up the work of the first.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, stood in the forest, watching Legolas Greenleaf walk away from him, as he so often did. Once Legolas was out of sight, Aragorn sighed and turned to the forest. He crept to a high boulder and climbed atop. Here he could watch the area around the group for predators and enemies. Despite his height advantage over the enemy, he wondered if he would be the one at the disadvantage, seeing as it was cold enough to freeze his soul. He looked about him through the dark trees and across the water. His gaze fell upon the sleeping souls by a fading fire in the distance. His eyes traveled to each sleeping form and finally rested on the elegant form gazing over the quiet group.

Legolas came upon the small, smoldering fire surrounded by seven sleeping forms. He lay down his bow and quiver and glanced at the fire. He lay down on a blanket and covered himself with his cloak. He closed his eyes and listened to the quiet forest and the beings surrounding him. He picked out each of the soft breathing patterns of each of them around him. The fastest breathing was that of the four hobbits, cuddled close near the fire. Next were Gimli, the dwarf, who slept near the edge of the firelight, and Gandalf and Boromir, both of who slept near the hobbits. The eighth he heard was that of Aragorn, son of Arathorn, who stood out at watch in the cold night. He heard Aragorn shiver and his heart ached; he wanted to be out there with him, holding him tight and keeping him warm. Slowly he let his senses dim and he fell asleep.

The morning light shot through the trees and lit up the area surrounding Legolas. Even after a short night of restless sleep, the young Elf looked so perfect. A pang of heartache jolted through Aragorn as he helped prepare the breakfast for the Fellowship. He dared only to watch out of the corner of his eye when the gorgeous Elf walked by him. How could he, a mere human, compare to the Elf maidens of Middle-Earth that must be throwing themselves at Legolas' glorious feet. He watched, intrigued, as a delicate strand of blonde hair dropped from behind Legolas' pointed ear. Legolas reached up and tucked it back into place. Oh, to be a strand of hair, to fall upon that fair skin, Aragorn thought to himself as he ate his breakfast slowly.

After breakfast, the Fellowship set out into the deep forest once again. Legolas kept to the front of the group with the pretense of watching for hidden predators. He watched ahead, but kept his mind and ears to the human only yards behind him. He longed for the shadows of night to come upon them so he could again gaze towards the warm body he longed to hold. Tonight, he decided, he would finally express his yearning for he who had tortured him since he laid eyes upon his magnificence.

Finally dark did cover the land and the Fellowship stopped for the night in a protected area of the forest. They grew closer to the mountains by the day, so there were an increasing number of cliffs and rock walls to set up camp against. It was Aragorn's watch first and he gazed around, as the night grew darker. He longed for the few moments in which he would be allowed to stand and face the object of his desire. Those moments came early this night. Legolas silently approached him and he felt as though he were dreaming. Aragorn looked around and he could see the dim orange glow from the Fellowship's dying fire in the distance.

You're early tonight. Aragorn spoke softly as he stood from his perch. Legolas walked up to him and stood closer than Aragorn had ever dared to envision. "Legolas, I," Aragorn's sentence was interrupted by a delicate kiss on his lips. He pulled away from Legolas; he felt as though something was wrong.

He took a few steps back and looked down from Legolas' gaze. Despite his raging desire for the beautiful creature, he could not bring himself to touch him in such a way; it seemed to be sacrilege of some kind. A warm, gentle hand fell upon his shoulder. He closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet scent radiating from in front of him. He felt the hand gently push him down and he carefully fell to his knees. He opened his eyes and looked up at the voluptuous Elf in front of him. The moon shone behind Legolas, enhancing his divine splendor.

Not a word was spoken; not a word was needed. Legolas reached his hand and ran it through Aragorn's hair. He gently stroked his cheek and his neck. For a moment, Legolas allowed them to look eye to eye. He then motioned for Aragorn to put head down. He did so and held his breath for the next moment to come when he would be allowed to touch that fair skin once again.

Legolas put his hand into Aragorn's hair again. He tugged the soft locks back and kissed Aragorn deeply in the mouth. Legolas reached down and undid Aragorn's shirt. Leisurely he pulled it off his body and let it fall to the ground a few feet away. He broke the kiss and looked at Aragorn. Aragorn gave him a look of approval and Legolas ran his fingers over the muscular physic in front of him.

Aragorn's skin was surprisingly soft, with small beads of sweat appearing whenever he got close to him. His skin was tanned from the sun and had a peculiarly soothing feel. Legolas ran his hands over Aragorn's broad shoulders and upper back and felt his muscles tense. Legolas tilted his head back slightly and gazed up into the dark overcast sky.

A sole drop fell upon his fair Elven skin. He let the drop roll down his cheek. A second fell upon the head in front of him. A soft gasp escaped Legolas as another droplet fell onto his own cheek. Aragorn looked up at him in question and concern. Legolas smiled slyly at him and touched Aragorn's cheek lightly. He leaned down again and kissed Aragorn's tender lips once more.

It began to rain harder as the two forms drew closer together. Aragorn laid his cloak on the ground under a tree. He sat down upon it, and Legolas sat on him. Legolas kissed Aragorn gently on his lips and trailed to his neck and kissed gently.

Raindrops escaped the tree's protective branches and trickled down to them. Soon Legolas' blond hair was matted to his head and his ears stuck out oddly. Legolas' cloak was soaking through to his tunic, but Aragorn continued to cover Legolas' lips and cheeks with small, tantalizing kisses.

As the rain fell harder around them, Legolas heard the Fellowship rousing in the distance. He broke their last kiss and smiled slightly at the vulnerable ranger below him. He stood and helped Aragorn to his feet.

Legolas and Aragorn stood and separated. They walked back to the camp from different directions to avoid arousing any unnecessary suspicion.

"Drat this rain! I cannot believe the trouble of it all!" Gimli complained as they propped up a makeshift tent that the nine of them could reasonably fit under. The four hobbits huddled close under a nearby tree as the taller went to work. As soon as a reasonable facsimile was created, they rushed under, nearly toppling over the stout dwarf. "I say! Mind yourselves now! You're not the only ones who are wet you know!"

Despite the minor conflicts, the dwarf was soon covered and lightly sleeping once again. The four hobbits began to snore and the wizard and Borimir slept cozily next to them. Legolas and Aragorn decided to hold off on their next escapade until drier weather blessed them. Aragorn too, lay and slept with the group, while Legolas reentered the downpour to keep watch.


	2. The Storm and the Split

The Love of an Elf - Chapter 2

Characters: Legolas, Aragorn

Rays of light shot across the damp land sooner than any of them could have hoped, even though the rain had stopped flooding the ground around them. The rain had soaked many of their garments through and they were ever so thankful for the dry and warm weather that surrounded them. Once the tent had been deconstructed, and their things recollected, they headed on their way through the waking forest.

The sunlight dripped lazily between the soggy leaves of the trees above as they trudged on through the woodland. Animals cried out in the surrounding lands giving distorted roars of encouragement. As the sun reached its peak above them, the trees parted into a stone-filled oasis. They stopped for a brief lunch of berries and a flour biscuit. They moved on as the sky again began to darken with clouds.

The nine adventurers walked on, seeking shelter from the oncoming storm. Legolas looked up to see the deep green-gray clouds swarming above him. He longed to gaze into the eyes of his love once again. He longed to hold him tight and to protect him from the imminent storm.

Legolas led the group up the narrowing stone trail. He turned to check on the group. Gandalf followed close behind him with Frodo and Merry clinging to his robes. Gimli was telling Sam and Pippin another one of his Dwarven legends, and Aragorn brought up the rear, talking softly with Boromir. Legolas turned once again to the path in front of him.

The hair on Legolas' arms and neck rose straight up and a moment later lightning struck, creating a tremendous rumble behind Legolas on the steep solitary trail. He spun around to see an enormous avalanche of granite boulders crumble and fall to the path, dividing the Fellowship in two.

The noise was colossal and the ground shook beneath their feet with such force that it nearly brought the fellowship to its knees. Debris fell perilously onto the troupe, bashing and bruising on its descent. Finally, the landslide drifted to a standstill and the dust settled on the battered survivors. 

"Is everyone alright?" Aragorn hollered from the back half of the path. Small moans of frustration escaped some of them. Nobody was badly injured, but this split would prove to be quite an annoyance and a large delay in their travels.

"Everyone is fine on this side. Yours?" Legolas called out in response. His heart fell with the rocks knowing it would be days until he would see his beloved once again.

"Fine. We will have to split and find shelter separately. The storm is coming quickly, and will soon be upon us. We will meet again at dawn if the rain has stopped. If not, whenever it does, we shall," Aragorn called back. He, too, was deeply saddened by this holdup.

The group split; Aragorn, Gimli, Borimir, Sam, and Pippin went back down the thin trail to a small cave they'd seen on the way up, while Legolas, Frodo, Gandalf, and Merry traveled farther on the trail to find shelter from the vicious storm manifesting above them.

Thunder crashed outside the small crevice Legolas had chosen for the group. The elf woke with a start, covered in a cold sweat. He sat up on his cloak and peered to the opening of the crevice. Gandalf lay with his head on his chest, snoring softly. Legolas looked up from the wizard and looked out into the rain. He stood and walked silently to the opening. He paused and listened into the white noise of the night. The moon shone down occasionally through the storm, bathing the land in an eerie glow.

He quietly stepped into the rain and felt it quickly saturate his tunic. He glanced up and down the trail. A strange sentiment drew him back down the path. He walked for a long while and he came upon the boulders they'd encountered earlier. The rain beat down harder now; the wind blew and pushed him towards the edge. A bright flash amplified by a quick crash made his Elven heart skip a beat and in the quiet that followed he heard a soft moan from behind the rocks.

There it was again. A feeling he couldn't describe or define drew him nearer to the soft moaning that was on the other side of the rocks. He began to climb up the slick, wet granite, loosing his footing five or six times before making it to the top. He looked down to the darkness behind the huge stone

Lightning once again filled the sky and a human form could be seen crouching at the base of the rocks. Legolas called out to him, but his voice just drifted away with the wind. The man began to shiver and moan louder. His body began to shake violently and in one final stretch and scream of agony, he fell into himself and collapsed. Lightning shot across the sky, pointing to the body at the base of the rocks. As the light shone across the face of the man, Legolas let out a soft gasp and began to fall backward. He reached up to catch the rock under his fingers, but it was no use, he fell from the high stone to the hard gravel below. His eyes shot open as his body smacked the ground with a sickening thud.

Legolas woke with a start, covered in a cold sweat. He sat up on his cloak and peered to the opening of the crevice. Gandalf lay with his head on his chest, snoring softly. Legolas looked up from the wizard and looked out into the rain. Memories flooded to his mind and the realization hit him. He ran out into the bone-chilling rain and scaled the rock in a quick motion. He landed with a soft thud at the base of the rock on the other side. He gazed around for the figure that was so clear in his mind. His heart fell as he spotted a dark mass in the corner. He ran to Aragorn's side and called out to him. He rolled him onto his back, and Aragorn sputtered, his mouth full of dirty rainwater.

Aragorn's eyes were slightly glazed over, and his cloak was drenched in the muddy water that poured down on them. Legolas pulled him into a tight hug and another. Legolas lay him back and began to check him for the injury that ailed him. He ran his hands over his head and face, down his neck and shoulders, chanting softly the words of his people. The tears running down his immortal cheeks disappeared in the rainfall. His hands searched his legs and feet and then moved to his chest. They slid gently over his ribs and down to his side. Aragorn let out a pained moan as Legolas' hands ran over his clothed lower abdomen. They winced together as Legolas peeled back the sticky cloth of Aragorn's tunic. Blood streamed copiously out of a brutal wound in Aragorn's side.

All hope dissipated from Legolas' body. His true love rested mortally wounded in his arms. The rain that poured down upon them was dyed red with Aragorn's blood. Tears blurred his vision as he began to tend the deep gash. Desperation washed over him; Aragorn's life was nearly spent. He hated himself for pressing down on the ranger's injury. He chanted between sobs and looked into the eyes that seemed to gloss over as the moments passed. He gasped for breath as the rain drowned out his weeping. The Elven prince distraughtly recited words of healing, franticly searching the man's eyes for life. He held on long after Aragorn's last breath had passed his lips.

A long, silent moment passed. Legolas kissed Aragorn's forehead and said goodbye. The rain beat down on them and the pool of watery blood stained Legolas' boots a deep red. Legolas set Aragorn's head down in peace and stepped back from him. Tears no longer filled his eyes as he turned from his love. He looked over the drenched forest below him. The ledge seemed so inviting as he stood there gazing into the dark, wet night. He felt lost, empty, nothing without Aragorn. He stared down at his red boots and then beyond them into the dark abyss below.

It was impossible for an elf to take his own life, was it not? His soul would be lost forever, never to be regenerated or blessed. He gazed down. But surely an eternity without Aragorn would not be worth a thousand blessings! He took a deep breath in the night rain and leaned forward over the edge of the cliff. The darkness sped past him as he dove towards the inevitable.


	3. Free Fall

Legolas fell into the darkness and spun onto his back in his doomed free fall. The dark shadows of trees and boulders streamed past him as he gained speed. He closed his eyes as sensed the ground growing closer. His mind filled with thoughts of Aragorn. He remembered his smile, his laugh, his fear, and even his anger. He remembered their few but wonderful moments together. Most of all, he remembered his cool, clear blue eyes. How they would sparkle with inspiration and thought. But those eyes faded to gray and dulled over. He felt himself get heavier and the ground was so close. Soon he would be with his beloved. Their souls linked forever. But he had willfully fallen. His soul was forsaken.

Legolas' eyes shot open into the darkness above him. He reached out for something to stop his fall. He reached his arms desperately above him, but grabbed only air. In one final gasp he closed his eyes and felt  
the hard, cold stone below him.

In the small cave that he slept in, Aragorn woke with a start. A soft orange glow warmed the room and he waited for his eyes to adjust. Sitting up against the stone wall behind him, he looked around. Sam and Pippin were curled together near the dying fire and Gimli was close by. Boromir sat near the doorway, watching for danger, but keeping dry from the storm.

Aragorn stood and straightened his tunic. He gathered his cloak and wrapped it about himself. He crept silently around the sleeping souls and met up with Boromir at the door.

"Good evening," Aragorn said softly to Boromir.

"Good eve. Does something trouble you? Your watch is not for another hour and a half," Boromir returned as he looked up from the rainy opening.

"I know. However, I have a feeling I cannot explain. I will be back soon," Aragorn said quietly to him and put up his hood.

He walked out the door and towards the boulder avalanche. The rain began to fall harder now; large, heavy drops fell hard on his shoulders. The wind spat at him, spraying mist into his face. He pressed  
forward; he felt drawn to the rocks by some strange force deep within his mortal soul. 

Lighting coupled with a trembling clash of thunder erupted from the dark sky above. He was startled, but did not lose his footing in the wet, slick mud. He walked close to the side of the bluff, clinging to the stones for support. He looked ahead and saw the outline of the large boulders. They loomed higher above him as he drew nearer. Finally he stood in the corner formed by them and the wall.

Lighting and thunder exploded from the sky again, this time loud enough to shake loose some of the debris. A shower of stones and brush fell down onto him. He leapt to the side, but was clipped by a razor-like stone jutting from the wall. He grimaced and clenched his side. Falling to his knees, he watched in horror as his blood poured out between his fingers.

He felt dizzy and the rain on his shoulders seemed to be urging him downward. He finally fell to the ground, his face buried into the ground. The water rushed in around his face, over his nose and mouth,  
but he couldn't seem to get up! He held his breath, then sputtered, but he couldn't hold on forever. He sighed and closed his eyes as the water began to flow into his lungs.

Aragorn drifted in and out of consciousness for what seemed like hours, but was mere minutes. He managed to wake somewhat when he felt a soft thud in the ground a few feet from him. He tried to move,  
to get the person's attention, or whatever it was that had fallen, even wishing for a sympathetic creature of the woods.

He couldn't move at all. He'd started to give up hope when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder that flipped him to his back. He started choking out water from his system, and gasping in gulps of rain-saturated air. He let his eyes come into focus and he recognized the weeping figure above him. His love, Legolas, had come to save him from his perils. He closed his eyes and winced as he suddenly had feeling in his side again. He felt the bittersweet pressure of Legolas' hands on his skin.

He felt hope course through his veins. He tried to speak to his savior, he wanted so much to reach up and pull the blond streaks from his face, but he couldn't. Tears of joy, tears of fear, tears of pain all streamed from his eyes. He cried harder as his vision of Legolas outlined by the dark began to fade. He fought desperately, but darkness slowly seeped into his vision. He slipped into unconsciousness again.

Aragorn felt as though he awoke from a deep sleep when a kiss landed upon his skin. He slowly opened his eyes and looked over at the tall form walking towards the ledge. It was Legolas. A small smile crossed his face as he remembered his sweet Legolas. It immediately left as he realized what was happening. He was filled with an unknown fury as he plunged to the ledge that Legolas had just leapt from. He reached out, almost falling himself, and grabbed at the smooth pale hand falling from him. He cried out in exasperation and closed his eyes.

Seconds passed as hours. Finally Aragorn felt the fingers of his lovers touch his own as he caught the light elf from his death. The pale fingers immediately wrapped around his own, and Legolas was in his arms before another moment passed. The two knelt in the pouring rain, clutching each other, and frantically trying to keep each other safe. 

Legolas woke with the beginnings of daybreak dripping through the cracks and crevices of the cave. He stood and gathered his things, then walked around and woke everyone, including the watch guard. He stood on the path outside gazing into the blue sky. No traces of rain could be seen, and only light dew kissing the plants' leaves gave the hint of the previous storm. A cold chill ran up his spine as he looked down the path towards the roadblock. Had it really happened? Was it a dream? He didn't know. What tricks a mind could play on a lonely lover. He turned and entered the cave, making sure that everyone had gathered everything, and they set out for the stone boulders.

Aragorn became aware of the noises around him. He sat and stood in one swift movement, and instantly doubled over in pain. He slowly lifted up his tunic to reveal his side. A large bruise stretched across a large area of his side. He froze. He looked towards the opening into the bright dry morning. No storm clouds cluttered the sky; no wet mud plastered the ground. Not even a pool of standing rainwater could be seen. He didn't know what to think. Had it been real? He pushed these doubtful thoughts from his mind and the small group headed up towards the boulder avalanche.


	4. Together Momentarily

Aragorn lead the weary group to the stone avalanche and discovered that the others were already there. After a brief discussion and short trial and error session, the hobbits, dwarf and Boromir had gotten over the stone blockade. Once Aragorn was the only one left on the lower side, Legolas swiftly climbed over the rock and landed next to him. They immediately embraced.

"Was it real? Was it real, Aragorn?" Legolas whispered through his lover's hair.

"I know not, my love. I know not."

They quickly mounted over the boulder and the group began up the trail once more.

In the weeks that followed, the dream episode began to fade in their memory and soon was nothing more than that, a memory. Legolas and Aragorn cherished their wonderful, but secretive, time together between watches. They would meet up in the deep of the forest out of earshot of their sleeping friends and embrace and kiss and be intimate with one another. Slowly the time that it took for them to trade watches grew in length and it was not long before someone took notice.

Long had Boromir dreamed of the day when he would feel the fair skin of the Elven prince against his own. He had grown increasingly infatuated with the elf, watching him in his every move, as much as he had dared. The sun seemed to gleam off his pale skin and his lithe body moved with such grace and beauty; he was the most perfect creature Boromir had ever seen.

Boromir made it a daily ritual to watch the elf get up, take watch, and return to his bed. He would lay on his bedroll, pretending to sleep, and watch in the dimming firelight as the elf would stand, gingerly slide on his armor and weaponry and walk into the forest. When the elf returned, the man watched him strip his weapons and armor and slide into his own bedroll. The blond locks would dance on the elf's shoulders and frame his delicate features. It was only after a few nights when the elf's watch lasted much beyond Aragorn's leaving to take up the shift that Boromir decided to follow his fellow man into the forest.

He followed Aragorn quite a few paces behind, careful not to create noise that a ranger would surely pick up. They came to a small clearing and he saw him; Legolas was standing, elegant as he does, gazing up to the stars. The beauty of the moonlight streaming down the elf's golden hair took Boromir's breath away. The scene entranced him, but the moment was lost when he watched Aragorn step into it. He could barely believe it when Aragorn walked right up to Legolas, touched his shoulder and kiss him. Boromir's eyes grew wide and anger filled his heart.

Not wanting to see anymore of this, he turned and returned to the fire and to his bedroll. He was pretending to sleep when Legolas returned and gazed at the group. His eyes stopped momentarily on Boromir and Boromir's heart skipped a beat. He held his breath and held as still as he could. Had he been spotted? His love was with another, but there was nothing he could do at the moment. As he drifted to sleep, he thought of ways to win his elf over.

Over the next few weeks, Boromir began to gain greater friendship with Aragorn. After all, the saying "keep your friends close and your enemies closer" has applied for centuries. He gained Aragorn's trust by doing small tasks and slowly planting ideas into the man's head about his own honorable aspects.

Legolas, on the other hand, Boromir had started watching more intently. He watched his routines, he watched his reactions, and began taking mental notes of anything he could use in his advantage to win him over. Lust drove Boromir to his clever methods and the fine, sleek body of the elf began to drive him even wilder. It wouldn't be long until he would be able to take that supple body and claim it for himself.

When he felt his plans had played out smoothly, Boromir moved to the second stage and began working on Legolas. He started small, letting himself be caught staring by the elf. The first few times, Legolas simply waved off, but as Boromir did it more and more, Legolas began squirming. Then he started touching the elf on "accident" and made excuses for the two of them to be alone together.

His plan seemed foolproof. Either Legolas would begin seeing and wanting Boromir more than Aragorn, or he would make Legolas nervous enough he would speak of it to Aragorn who would of course not believe it because Boromir was such an upstanding gentleman around Aragorn. Though he preferred the first alternative – it allowed less room for error and suspicion – either one was fine as long as he eventually was promised the silky flesh of the Elven prince.

Legolas really started feeling uncomfortable. Boromir had begun making what seemed to be attempts to catch his eye. Legolas had never had strong feelings about the man either way, but these progressively insistent approaches made him nervous. He was sure he could handle himself if he saw the man coming, but if taken by surprise, the man's size alone would be an advantage. It was at the point where he began thinking of the logistics of an attack from Boromir that he expressed his concerns to Aragorn one night.

It was a foggy, stormy, but presently dry night when Legolas and Aragorn met. Legolas began telling Aragorn of Boromir's attempts to separate the two of them, but was stopped short. Aragorn wouldn't hear such things. He loved the elf dearly, but these little forebodings and reservations he kept complaining were beginning to get old. Now it was Boromir, Aragorn's trusted friend and companion that was trying to advance on Legolas?

"Legolas, I love you, but you really mustn't worry so much," Aragorn said to the elf. "I trust Boromir and I don't think he is interested in males, let alone your race, my love. Think nothing more of it."

"Aragorn, please listen to me. A threat has been growing in my mind. I feel that something will happen if he goes unbridled. Please listen, do not walk away from me, my love," Legolas pleaded. Aragorn simply sighed and turned towards another path. "Aragorn!" Legolas insisted, sounding quite childish to even himself, but he cared not.

Aragorn turned again to the elf. "Legolas, I have heard enough. Your words hurt me, for Boromir is a good and trusted friend. I must trust my own kindred if I can trust none other. Please return to the camp and get some sleep. Boromir is a good man. You are imagining things. Good night." With that he turned and left down the path.

"Aragorn. Aragorn!" he called to his lover. He felt betrayed and tears threatened in his eyes. Anger swept over him and he stormed off through the forest. He gained speed and broke in to a run. After a few minutes he slowed and sat down in a clearing. He looked up to the sky for guidance. Clouds had gathered once again and drops of rain had begun to fall.

Suddenly he stood. He felt something watching him. His pointed ears perked up and he listened intently to the sounds of the forest around him. His hands rested gently on his blades at his sides. A twig snapped behind him and he spun around, blades poised. Boromir appeared out of the shadows of the trees. Adrenaline pumped into his system and he stood perfectly still with a cold look on his face. Rain fell in large drops now.

"Legolas," Boromir started.

"What do you want," Legolas hissed at him.

"You. I want you. Will you not be mine?"

"Be yours? After you have tried playing mind games with me and Aragorn? Don't think I don't know you know about us. Why would you do all this? You are jealous or some other thing plagues your mind."

"You could have been mine, you should have been mine," he drew his sword, "shall you be mine, or shall I have to take you by force, my love?" Boromir mocked Aragorn freely, and took pleasure in the fear that washed over the prince's features.

Panic swept through Legolas. His most primal instincts flared up in his mind. Fight or flight, but which would give him a better chance to get to safety. After a moment of watching Boromir start closing the distance between them, fight won out. He waited the approach of the man and blocked his first few swings. They swung back and forth, the metal of their swords clanging in the wet night.

Slowly Boromir gained the advantage and knocked Legolas to the ground. He kicked the elf's swords out of his hands and pinned him down. Fear seared through Legolas, but he kept his anger on the surface and fought with all his strength. The man on top of him fumbled with his now wet-handled sword and Legolas saw his chance. He bucked up his knees and caught Boromir squarely in the stomach. Promptly Legolas was let loose long enough to get up. Boromir stood again and started at Legolas.

Legolas realized that he would probably not stand another go with Boromir, so he turned and began running. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he didn't care as long as it was away from the men that disbelieved him and threatened him. He heard Boromir coming up behind him, but because of the bruise he probably left him, the man lagged behind and Legolas gained a great advantage. Soon he could no longer hear the panting of his attacker through the pounding rain. The ground below him grew more solid and he soon found himself near a rock face.

It was here that he stopped to catch his breath. Although elves rarely were out of breath, he was at this moment. The adrenaline from his fear had caused his heart to beat harder and he could hear it above the rain. The rain! He was soaked through and there was no way he would find his way back to the camp in this storm. He felt along the wall in the dark of the night for a small cave he could fit himself into for the night. He had glided along the wall only for a few moments when he heard a great crash of thunder and a familiar rumbling above him.

Rocks began to fall around him as he tried to run to the forest, away from the rock face, but his head caught a stone, and he became instantly disoriented. He managed to get under a small but thick ledge before the world closed in around him. He crouched in the mud. As he reached up to tend his head wound, rocks fell around him and on top of the ledge in a great deafening cascade.


	5. The Darkness

Legolas felt the pull of sleep drawing on his eyes. His breathing had slowed as the cold pulled at the last of his energy. Splinters of bright white light occasionally shot through cracks in the rocks above him. His legs had long ago fallen asleep, but he dared not move. Rocks surrounding this tiny hell space were set precariously around the elf during the rockslide. He did not know how long he had been there beyond the two long darks that had covered his enclosure.

Sleep, he knew, could be the end of him. Were he to but fall or move just wrong, he could bring his house of rocks crushing in on himself. In the first day, Legolas had begun to shake from his muscles tiring. He now shook from the cold and wet and the frustration that seared through him with every gust of wind against the rock face.

He mentally cursed himself for losing control of his reason over the events that had led up to this moment. How foolish it was of him to go traipsing through the woods at such a pace that was unsafe. Aragorn's words rang through his mind many times, and the whole situation angered him and created such fervor of dissatisfaction that his normal calm nature had grown foreign to him.

Another cold draft returned his thoughts to the present. All that mattered was the present. By Valor, he knew not what his future was, and the past only seemed to make him feel weaker. Legolas again felt devitalized as his eyelids drooped closed. He shot them open again. He could not sleep, not now. Again his eyelids fell and again he opened them. He needed to focus on breathing, on staying alive.

Too soon, however, the Elf's consciousness slipped away from him and he found himself in an uneasy sleep.

Aragorn brushed the hair out of Frodo's pale face. His damp curls stuck defiantly. A troubled look crossed the hobbit's face and Aragorn placed a hand on the hafling's forehead. His fever had not relented. Aragorn wet a fresh cloth and gently mopped Frodo's pale cheeks and face. A contented look finally fell on Frodo's face and Aragorn relaxed a bit. After feeling ample time had passed and Frodo would stay contented, Aragorn stood and looked over the Fellowship.

Their number seemed to have dwindled somewhat – Legolas had left them two days ago, that night Frodo fell grimly ill, and Gimli was currently out on watch. Only Boromir, Gandalf, Peregrin, Meriadoc, and Sam slept around the fire. Frodo slept isolated slightly, curled up in his bedroll. Aragorn gazed at the hobbits and sighed. How innocent they were.

Approaching footsteps finally broke his gaze and he stood at full height, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He relaxed when he saw the dwarf's stout form appear in the circle of firelight. He sighed inwardly and approached the dwarf.

"I will take up my watch now," Aragorn said. The dwarf nodded to him and Aragorn headed into the forest.

Legolas' eyes shot open when he realized he was asleep. Again it was dark and his body ached slightly less than before. His legs were still asleep, bent awkwardly beneath him. The cold of the night had set in and violent shivers now wracked his body.

Dried blood plastered his hair to his face, and his fine clothes were tarnished and torn, but at least he had stopped bleeding and his dizziness had subsided. He was parched; three nights with naught more than raindrops to whet his thirst created a whole new issue. His breathing was pained and ragged, and heart had slowed to conserve energy. Life was drifting from him or at least he felt this to be true.

Silence had surrounded him these last few days. The rocks served well as a mute for the world, and in response Legolas had tuned into the outside world, searching for sounds of his companions. Had they not searched him? What had Boromir told them when he returned alone? Or had they simply come to accept his absence and moved on without him? Grief filled his heart and his face alone told of his anguish.

A twig snapped. Legolas was torn from his sorrows. Fear rushed him and he held his breath. Silence. Moments passed. Legolas quietly gasped for air again once he was sure the creature had passed.

A heavy footstep, nearer than the twig, fell. Adrenaline charged through him, filling him with a foreign energy. He fell silent again, and again moments passed. He could hold his breath no longer and he huffed in a gulp of air as quietly as he could. Silence once more.

"It cannot be –" a voice started, "Legolas?"

He knew this voice. Husky but tender, strong and compassionate. Hope replaced his fear and he breathed in deeply.

Aragorn! At least that is what he would have cried out, had his lips and mouth not been so dry. A weak moan is all he could manage. He was quite surprised to hear his own voice again; after all, it had been at least three nights by his count since he had last spoken.

"Legolas!" Aragorn cried out as he hurried upon the pile of rocks. Quickly he pulled stone after stone away, debris and dust disrupted by his quickened pace.

Slowly the night sky shown through the rocks, shining solemnly down upon Legolas' cramped figure. After ample room was provided for Legolas to escape from his prison, Aragorn rushed in to pull him out. Fresh blood rushed to his legs and feet and Legolas howled in pain as the numbness subsided to pins and needles. He crumpled in Aragorn's arms and passed out.


	6. Tea and Pipe Smoke

The smell of tea and pipe smoke roused Legolas from his restless sleep. Long had it been since such luxuries had been available, and this led him to believe it to be another cruel dream of temptations. A murmur of voices swirled around him and somehow he discerned his name from the slurred chatter. Again he heard it, but a bit clearer.

"Legolas?" Pippin's voice was muffled and smaller than usual. "Aragorn, come quick! He's waking!"

He tried to open his eyes. It was then that he noticed the light. Brightness beyond his memories blinded him so that he shut his eyes again straight away. His body ached in ways he never had before experienced. His skin felt as though it were on fire and his head was throbbing with each excruciating beat of his heart. A soothing hand set upon his forehead, cooling him. His breath came easier to him now, not hitched and painful, and he was beginning to calm down.

"Legolas. Legolas, can you hear me?" Aragorn's heavenly speech brought Legolas a little more to his senses.

"It's so bright, Aragorn… Where am I? How…" his voice trailed off as he finally looked up into his lover's eyes. "I missed you so," he whispered through parched lips and squinted eyes.

"I missed you, too, love," Aragorn whispered back. Tears swelled in his eyes at the sight of Legolas' gaze. "Now," he started, pulling himself together, "can you feel your toes? Can you move them?"

Legolas grinned slightly and wriggled his toes pleasantly. "Yes, I have toes again. It is awful bright in here, though. Could you not close the shutter? And who is lavishing in tea and pipe? I can smell it so clearly as though it were my own." He sat up and immediately regretted it. His head swam and the room spun. Color drained from his already pale face and he was swallowed by darkness again.

Aragorn took the soft wet cloth into his hands. He dipped the rag in the cool spring water next to him and dabbed Legolas' face gently. He wrung it out and dipped it again. The fellowship was scattered about, attempting to be preoccupied, but all eyes were on Legolas. Aragorn could feel them watching, worrying behind him. Long had Legolas lain in cold sweat. An abandoned shack provided temporary shelter for his recovery.

With a gasp, Legolas awoke. He grabbed Aragorn's arm desperately; terror was etched into the elf's face.

"Aragorn!" he hissed. He looked as though he'd seen demons and fiends beyond imagination. Words dangled on his lips, but his tongue wouldn't cooperate. His eyes were wide with fear and his body was tense. "Aragorn," he said again, organizing his thoughts, "I… I should not have sat up."

A chuckle escaped Aragorn's lips at this lighthearted remark. He had expected the words of devils and tortures to escape his lips, but Legolas revealed nothing of his dreams to him that night.


End file.
